Judge — December 16, 1911 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Combination. By MceLANDBURGH WILSON. TH phonograph is a machine Unrivalled in its ways, It talks and talks and talks and talks And says the same old phrase. The engine is a great machine It travels forth and back, And runs and runs and runs and runs Upon the same old track. The candidate is a machine Which combination brings; He runs and talks and runs and talks Upon the same old things. In Anticipation. First father—‘‘Say, that new doctor knows his game, all right."” Second ditto—'‘ How's that?” First father —‘‘He gave every boy in the’ward a new jackknife for a Christmas present.” ITTLE beefsteak parties, Little poker decks Make our dear old daddy Add a figure to our checks. BURBANK PRODUCES A EQUARE PEA 80 THAT THE NEWLY RICH CAN EAT THEM WITH A KNIPE. Call Him Off. OT LONG ago, Mr. Carnegie, of New York, Pittsburgh, and Scot- land, established a fund for the further- ance of the cause of universal peace, and since that time has himself spoken and written constantly on the subject. As a result, China is in a turmoil of civil war, Italy has attacked Turkey, Russia has threatened Persia, Haiti has boiled over, Mexico has had a bloody revolution, and goodness knows what else may be going on by the time these words are read. We suggest that Andy broil his doves of peace and eat them as soon as possible. Mat:imonial Mathematics. N UNION there is strength, My wife and I are ten; She's the one, I am the naught, That's the way it's always been. THE MUSICIAN. Alas, Not So! GOME uninformed stranger, coming suddenly upon that recent marvelous display of battleships mobilized in the « Hudson River, at New York, might have been easily persuaded that the United States, after long provocation, had lost patience and declared war on New Jersey. GIFT in the house is worth two in the store. “THE LITTLE ILLS OP LIPE ARE THE HARDEST TO BEAR.” Obsolete Home. By ELLIS 0. JONES. *(\ AID pleasures and palaces, Mir rhe ce way rons There’s something destroying The old-fashioned home. The cause is not clear, But certainly we know, Wherever we travel, There’s something like Reno. We Have With Us Again this Winter EMORIES of the hard winter of '51, The last survivor of the big bliz- zard of '32, The regular cold-weather advance in the price of eggs, milk, butter, apples, vegetables, meats, and everything else. The newspaper story of the small boy with his tongue fast to a frosty + post. The skating pictures on the mag- azine covers, The absent-minded man who shov- els off the roof just as you are passing beneath. The same old skating jokes on the in- side pages, ee “GOODNESS! WHAT AN AWPUL RACKET YOU ARE MAKING, LITTLE BOY.” “sure! YOUSE DON'T EXPECT ME TO PUT RUB- BER TIRES ON DIS BUNCH OF JUNK, LO YoU 2” Hens that won't lay while eggs are high. Neighbors that refuse to shovel their walks, The cop that makes you keep yours clean. Vindication of the goose-bone weather prophets. The ice men—original weather profits. The stalled motor car. The velvet ear bobs. The gumboot and the galoshe. The same old cold and cough. — Don. Cameron Shafer. comicbooks.com